


In the Woods

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Children being reckless, Gen, Getting Lost, Medical Supplies, Siblings, dwarflings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Óin wants nothing more than to spend his day in the forest to gather medical supplies, but instead he has to babysit his younger brother. Glóin isn't <i>that</i> young though, so why not take him into the woods? What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> An Óin and Glóin ficlet written for the 2015 HobbitCon fan book project

The upper-level library of the palace grounds was nothing compared to the deep and cavernous halls of Erebor’s main archives, but it was good enough for the needs of one young Dwarfling. Óin liked it well enough, though he could not wait to know enough to finally have a reason to explore the ancient tomes below. Right now he was still an apprentice, undecided whether he wished to focus on healing or prophecies even, and the books and scrolls of the palace were more than enough for his studies. He could spend hours reading up and copying what he needed to know into his practice journal.

Not now though. Now he had come to the library to look up the references he needed to gather fresh plants. So far he had always used the supplies his master, Nithi of the Iron Hills, had given him to work with. She had also taught him how to build his own little apothecary bag, how to properly create labels so they would not fall off, how to recognize powders by smell and taste as well as preparing fresh plants and minerals to make them into non-perishable medicine. It was about time that he tried actually collecting them himself, and Nithi had said so too.

Óin had practiced in the royal gardens already. Erebor had several smaller parks and gardens all throughout the mountain. Some were outside, on the highest mountain slopes and could only be reached by long winding staircases or the basket lifts operating on a similar system as the ones down in the mines. Then there were gardens on the inside as well, where sunlight could pour in through the high windows on the mountainside. Some were simply for recreation; others were places of celebration, with multi-coloured glass and crystals hanging of the branches of the trees and catching the light perfectly. Some had been made for scientific purposes, others for decorative flowers and a few for the food or colours of the plants. There weren’t many of those though, as it was much easier and less expensive to import the dyes and food needed in their Kingdom.

Óin’s favourite was the one near the palace. The Queen’s Garden, as it was often called, for King Thrór’s wife had been the one to care for it the most. It was large, standing on a flat platform outside under the open sky, but with solid rock surrounding it on three sides. It even had a hot-house, made completely out of iron and glass, heated by Erebor’s hot springs, and the air channelled from the great forges deep within the mountain. At any time that house was warm enough for rare plants and those that could only grow in summer, normally. Nithi had travelled the South once, and she had taught Óin about the plants that usually only grew in those parts. There was a section of bushes grown simply for their blossoms and the sweet smell but Hrera had been very interested in plants one could actually use. There were carefully labelled patches in neat rows, indicating where one could find any medical herb one could wish for, but also anything that might be used to spice up a nice stew. Some of those could be used for both, as Óin knew.

Any plants he had picked before were from that garden, mostly collected under Nithi’s watchful gaze. It was about time to actually go out and find plants out in the wild. If Óin was to travel and join caravans one day, he needed to know how to restock his supplies with no fancy garden around. And he did wish to travel out one day, when he was grown and could join expeditions to the South or into the North to fight off Orcs near trading routes.

Today was the perfect day for it as well. It was mild outside; the weather had been good the past few weeks, so anything Óin might try to find would be there, growing as it should. No early summer storms would have broken and carried away the sometimes quite fragile plants. It would be the _perfect_ opportunity to spend the entire day outside to fill his basket and prepare all he could.

It _would_ be perfect, but the pleasant free day had unexpected duties thrown on him.

“It’s not fair,” Óin snapped, for what must have been the twentieth time this morning. “I don’t want to waste my time on such a silly thing.”

For the twentieth time the only reply he got was a non-committal grunt from Dwalin. His cousin simply would not show any pity for Óin in this situation, or any. _He_ did not have a younger brother who he had to mind unexpectedly over and over.

“Why can’t he just play by himself _once_ ,” Óin went on with his rant, “why do I have to stay at home for this?”

He rolled up some of the scrolls and shuffled through the notes he’d made before, trying to be careful with them despite his bad temper. Óin huffed at the sorted out materials and then glared over to where Dwalin was sitting with a book. His cousin had already been there when Óin had entered the library to do his own research, sitting on a comfortable bench between two shelves of the small history section. Dwalin had barely moved as Óin had ranted and shuffled around to pull out all the books and scrolls he needed, only showing signs of actually being conscious when he occasionally flipped a page or dragged his fingers through the high crest of his hair. And of course, for the near-amused and later more annoyed grunts in response to Óin’s words.

“You don’t have to go to that forest of yours today,” Dwalin finally said after putting a scrap of parchment between the pages of his book and closing it. “Go and gather your flowers when you don’t have to take care of Glóin.”

“I shouldn’t _have_ to readjust my plans!” Óin insisted. “Glóin isn’t that young, and why did Mum decide that I must…”

Usually there was somebody to mind the other’s children, aunts and uncles, or friends of the family, or anyone. It was rare that the siblings and cousins had to look after the youngest of the bunch. And Glóin truly wasn’t that young anymore. He was old enough to know what not to put into his mouth, and to hold a small axe without anybody fearing he would hurt himself. He might grow bored, but he could spend an entire evening unsupervised there was no _point_ in watching him. 

Dwalin shook his head and got up, book still in his hand.

“Just deal with it,” he told him, shrugging with one shoulder. “The forest won’t run away and you can be patient for a day. How bad can it be to mind your baby brother one evening?”

“Easy for you to say,” Óin muttered under his breath. Truly, Dwalin had never been called to look after younger relatives, and only sometimes got told off when little Frerin got in trouble while trying to play with him and Thorin. That was not even close to what Óin had to deal with though when it was time to mind Glóin, or be responsible and see to keeping everything in order.

Dwalin glanced at the book in his hands and then put it back where he’d found it while Óin gathered the rest of his things into his satchel and picked it up. Both of them were done in the library and walked out into the halls outside.

“I’ll go see what the red menace is doing,” Óin said, wondering if his mother had already left to the council meeting that had caused this situation.

“And I’ll go fetch Thorin. We’re going to the rookery to visit the ravens.. The fledglings invited us to help the smallest ones fly.”

The young Ravens of Erebor were quite fond of the young Dwarves of the royal line, unlike their parents who often felt like the children of both races were simply making trouble. Every once in a while the Dwarves could come to visit though, bring treats for the birds and delicious pastries they’d nicked from the kitchens, explore buildings and rocks with the birds and throw small ones up in the air as they still learned how to use their wings. It didn’t happen often but each time it was an amazing time.

Óin glared as Dwalin grinned and waved him goodbye.

He could not go to the forest because he was supposed to watch his little brother, and he could not go to visit the Ravens because Gróin would have his beard if she ever caught him taking his brother there. The rocks were steep and dangerous for young Dwarves, and even Óin could see that Glóin was too small to climb the best spots yet. It wasn’t _fair_.

Óin scrunched up his nose and turned to walk in the opposite direction of the one his cousin had taken. Why did Mahal turn a perfectly good day to such a miserable one?

Erebor’s endless winding staircases were also one of the main ways to get from one end of the royal family’s tunnels to the next. The main palace was pretty much in the centre of the many caverns and builds that still technically were part of the heart of Erebor’s city. The nobles and the kin of the King had their own houses and estates surrounding it, though they still were separate like this, and one might forget the King lived so close by. Fundin own house was close to the library, so Dwalin would not walk long before he got home, but his sister Gróin lived a little further and higher with her husband and two sons. Óin liked the surrounds of his house, the polished green stone reflected light at nearly any time of day, with the way the holes in the mountain side and the many mirrors threw light into the Kingdom. Whoever had carved the stairs and pillars must have had a fondness for the gemcutter’s craft, as moonstones and thinly cut quartz decorated the walls in a mosaic. Sometimes in summer the light was broken against those just so that the steps were covered in multi-coloured patterns.

The familiar sight of it soothed Óin’s bad mood a little. He counted the repeat in the patterns, noting each change, as at least one shape was different with each repetition of the mosaic. At the very top of the stairs there was a balustrade along the tunnels, with two foot of it being transparent plates of glass and crystal in a continuation of the pattern on the walls.

One could easily look through the bits that were made of glass, but the crystal blocked the view a little, so Óin only saw the Dwarfling when he crossed the corner into the hallway.

Glóin stood with his nose pressed to the glass, blowing at it until it fogged over. He stepped back and frowned as he saw his older brother approach.

“Mum said you were supposed to be home much earlier!” he said, falling into step as Óin grumbled and walked towards their house. “She said you have to watch me all day.”

He didn’t sound pleased about the concept either.

“I was still busy in the library,” Óin replied, thinking of his notes and the plants he wanted to collect wistfully. They reached their home and Óin went on the drawing room to put down his things. There were some toy swords scattered on the floor, but other than that everything was in order and empty.

“I don’t think Mum wants us to cause havoc here,” he said, eyeing the swords. When he was younger he used to love playing with Glóin until no table was left standing and all the furniture was upturned. Now he was too old for such childish games though, and he was still too miffed about everything to even try.

“I don’t think Mum wants us to go down to the great forges either,” Glóin went on and Óin raised his eyebrows at him. His little brother loved the heat of the forges and the great fires and the precious gems and the golden treasures that were created there, but they both were too young to go loiter around there according to their father, and sadly their mother agreed.

Glóin pouted and puffed his cheeks out, looking back towards the front door with a look as wistful as Óin felt about the forest.

“Can’t I just go and play with Frerin? I promise I won’t tell Mum that you let me.”

It was tempting for sure, but not tempting enough to risk losing his beard for it.

“No, Mum would have both our beards.”

Glóin’s brow furrowed and his hand came up to rub at the fluffy beard he’d started to develop quite recently. It was rather impressive for his age, already showing signs of one day being as glorious as their mother’s, and he was very concerned about losing it.

“That’s not fair though! Frerin said he’s going to the rookery to visit the Ravens! He even promised to bring pear tarts to share!”

Óin snorted at that.

“Thorin and Dwalin are also going up there. I’m sure they’ll catch Frerin and then he’ll be in more trouble than _anything_ is worth.”

Glóin’s eyes widened and then a smug grin appeared on his face.

“Ooh, that would be fun to watch. I’m going to laugh at him tomorrow.”

Óin could only shake his head at the quick swing in his brother’s mood and opinion on their cousin. Then again, Óin would also feel a certain glee knowing that Thorin and Dwalin might get into trouble for doing fun things while he was condemned to stay where a young Dwarf could play, to be bored and miss out on everything.

But seeing how displeased Glóin was about the situation pacified him a little. Neither of them wanted to be here stuck with the other, and both wanted to do anything but stay at home and be bored. Really, Glóin would agree to anything remotely interesting maybe, if there only was any place Óin had the patience to go to. There was no such place, the markets would not have anything they hadn’t seen, and neither of them had enough coins left of their allowance to go to the truly interesting stands, most parks were boring to Glóin and really, Óin could not think of anything good. Unless…

“Say… How do you feel about visiting the forest today?”

*

Equipped with small satchels, an empty bag for plants and tools to gather and keep them in, walking sticks, and a few sandwiches wrapped in handkerchiefs, Óin and Glóin set out to walk into the forests around Erebor. They nearly ran down the stairways, just in case that their mother might return for some reason, or in case somebody realized that they were about the leave the mountain. Not forbidden, but surely their parents would not appreciate that Óin was dragging Glóin along so far away with no adult supervision.

Carts moved out through the gates and into the warm sunshine, pulled by hand or by goats, and merchants carried baskets of toys and iron tools. With the nice weather, the city of Men would have a big market that day, so it was natural for the Dwarves to bring their own goods down as well.

Glóin threw them a wistful glance, always interested in the markets, even if they were outside the mountain. But he followed as Óin turned off the path that lead down to Dale and headed towards the forest at the mountainside instead. 

Erebor was surrounded by lush green fields and forests in all directions, young woods growing near the paths down to Dale and the Lake. It was nice and shady in summer, and even the large woods further down were light. Balin and Thorin said that it was nothing compared to the real woods of the Elvish forests, as they’d travelled there before. Óin didn’t care for it much; he’d never seen more trees in one spot than this, so it was a proper forest to him.

They walked on the paths until stone turned to unpaved road and then to a barely visible difference in the ground’s consistency. Óin breathed in deeply as soon as they were surrounded by wood. The air smelled of leaves and ripe berries and herbs, most of all. Perfect day.

Óin wasted little time on simply gazing out into the forest. He opened his bag and walked towards the trees to kneel on the moss. It was much easier to collect in the gardens of Erebor, but practicing was the point after all. He pulled out his little scissors and sickles as well as boxes with neat compartments and glass vials. The sun lit the forest floor in golden patches of light so things were easy to see, but Óin checked every plant with a crystal magnifier his father had given him this year on his birthday. Everything was examined, gathered up, put away carefully and then written down in his small notebook before he got up and walked on and deeper into the forest to find the next thing.

He was focused on his work, but he couldn’t help but notice what Glóin was up to in the meantime. He climbed over fallen branches and on rocks, picked up pebbles to throw up and try to catch them as they skipped through the canopy. He poked sticks under bushes and at foliage and climbed up trees. Sometimes he would walk away out of Óin’s sight but he could always hear the heavy steps and the snapping of whatever he was stepping on.

“It’s quite alright here,” he stated after a while as Óin discovered a patch of wild strawberries and set to gather them up. “I don’t see how Elves can like forests so much though, it’s not _that_ special.”

“They have bigger ones, maybe those are nicer.”

Glóin scrunched up his nose at the idea of bigger forests and then started circling a large tree to try and get a better look at a bird’s nest in its branches. Óin shook his head and got up to walk on further.

In the afternoon they found a small stream and took a break to sit down on a rock and eat their sandwiches. Óin was quite pleased with all he’d gathered, and they could walk home really, but he was sure that there was more to explore. Glóin wasn’t pleased as he told him that.

“You’re just picking plants all the time. Just stuff your bag full and let’s go home, its getting boring on my own.”

“You’re not on your own.”

“Being with you is even more boring than being alone!”

Óin narrowed his eyes at his brother and shoved him a little so that he stumbled off the rock and landed with his boots in the stream. Glóin kicked a little, getting water over Óin’s pants and pulled a face at him. He ran off when Óin tried to grab him for this and the childish snickering was heard even when he was already out of sight. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Óin closed his bag and stood up to follow his brother. He didn’t really care about catching him, just went on scanning the foliage and trees for anything he might need. Glóin’s cracking steps circled around him the entire time, as if Glóin was trying to not be caught in a game of tag. Óin had no interest in following or even getting hold of his brother right now. Though the giggles and taunts did kind of make him want to get his hands on Glóin’s braids to get him in a headlock.

He walked on, and each time a pinecone flew past him he decided to go on gathering for longer than he had planned. He was done, but if Glóin decided that he had to be a brat about this because he wanted to go home, Óin might as well get his revenge in ways that did not involve a fistfight.

The sky above was slowly starting to turn red and orange and Óin glanced around. He wasn’t sure whether he knew the place they were in right now. He’d rarely been in the forest for this long, and he’d walked nearly the entire time. This wasn’t quite right… He couldn’t even see the mountain through the tall trees all around him to determine which direction he was facing.

It was awfully quiet too, he realized. Of course the wind, the birds and distant animals were making their noise well enough, but the sounds of breaking branches and a Dwarfling plunging through the undergrowth was notable in its absence.

Oh wonderful, not only had he gotten lost (and he _hadn’t_ , he just needed a moment to think), no, he’d also lost his little brother he was supposed to mind. Gróin would have his beard for sure.

Óin looked around, scanning the forest and making sure that his expression wasn’t too worried, just in case his brother was merely hiding and watching for a stupid prank. There was no sight of a fire-red curly hair in the green and brown of the forest, and there were too many potential hiding spots. 

“Glóin?” he called out, frowning a little at the lack of replies. “I can just leave you here if you don’t return at once!”

The next thing he heard was a panicked “AaaaAARGH!” and Óin’s heart skipped a beat.

That had been his brother’s voice, shocked and afraid and he knew that Glóin couldn’t pretend with things like this.

“Glóin?!”

The scream had come from somewhere to his right, so Óin ran to try and get to the source as quick as he could. What had happened? Had Glóin fallen into some hole, had he stumbled into a trap set out and forgotten by hunters? The thought of harm befalling his little brother because he’d dragged him out of the mountain was terrible and Óin thought he might be sick with worry.

The bushes he tried to fight through to run faster gave way to a few rocks and a creek in the ground, and when Óin reached the edge he saw his brother sitting at the bottom. Leaves stuck to his hair and he was staring at his hands. At first glance Glóin didn’t seem like he’d been injured much, and when Óin carefully walked down, he saw that there were scrapes on his cheek and knuckles. Nothing a Dwarf wouldn’t just shrug off.

Glóin’s eyes were wide and fearful though and it took Óin a few moments to realize why.

“I ripped my pants,” Glóin whispered, staring at the tear right over his knee. “Those are new… Mum will have my beard…”

Óin sat down, deeply annoyed at the fright his brother had caused him, but mostly just relieved that nothing had happened to him after all.

“What happened? How did you end up here?”

“I just slipped on the leaves and rolled down the hill? Mahal’s balls, I’m in so much trouble.”

Óin gave him a light clip round the ear for his language but didn’t comment on it. They would be in much more trouble after this, with how he now had no idea where they were for _certain_. He wasn’t sure whether to tell Glóin that.

“Lets go home,” Glóin said miserably.

They glanced up the hill Glóin had rolled down from, rocks half hidden by fallen and rotten leaves, damp soil. Another difficulty added to Glóin’s injuries. He waved Óin’s hand off when he tried to help him up, reassuring him that he wasn’t hurt. Glóin seemed weirdly quiet, perhaps because of the shock of falling and the realization that the fun part of the trip was over.

Climbing back up wasn’t easy, both of them had to use their hands to climb up, grabbing for purchase on the slippery ground. More than once Óin nearly fell trying to hold on to his brother or his bag, and Glóin fell on his stomach when his boots hit uneven ground. They managed getting up though, and by the time they finally stood on the highest point, the sun had set and the sky was a deep royal blue.

Glóin looked up at his brother expectantly, and Óin could not even bring himself to even offer a word of reassurance. He didn’t know what direction he’d come from exactly, or whether they’d climbed up at the right spot. He squinted out into the forest and pressed his lips together. Should he guess? Should he just walk in the next best direction and hope for the best? He’d never been in the forest after sunset before, and everything looked so different, even more unfamiliar than it had when the sun still shone.

Of course Glóin caught on.

“You don’t know the way, do you?”

He sounded worried and resigned, and at least Óin hadn’t caused his brother to be scared.

“No, I’m not sure where we are at all.”

Glóin looked pale but he braced his shoulders and puffed his chest out. Just like a real warrior in stance, despite how little he was and how his beard was barely more than stubble and fluff.

“So we just go straight ahead, right? Better to do something than just stand around?”

While Óin often rolled his eyes at the stubborn approach of the classical Dwarvish soldier he had to agree that this attitude was certainly right now. He looked around one last time, then pointed in the direction that seemed best to him and marched on.

“This way seems as good as any.”

He hated navigating the dark of the forest. It was entirely wrong in his opinion, very much unlike the dark of caverns and the mines under Erebor. The trees moved in the wind and the night’s animals started to make their noise. The pretty golden patches of light were replaced by grey and silver and made orientation harder than it should have been. Shiny eyes watched them from between the bushes and tree trunks, but they fled from the noise of Óin and Glóin’s steps.

The brothers didn’t speak, though Óin wished to comfort his brother and he saw how Glóin sometimes bit his lip and frowned, but never asked for reassurance either. There was none Óin could give without lying, and he was sure that his nervousness would show if he spoke.

Óin had never gotten lost in the tunnels of Erebor, had always known what level he was on and what side of the mountain. The forest had no sense in its shapes and pathways at all! He couldn’t even tell where the lonely mountain was, as the trees were too high and the forest ground wasn’t a steady gentle slope up to it. It went up and down in no apparent regularity and Óin wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to move about by only judging that.

Glóin’s leg wasn’t hurt but after about an hour of silence Óin noticed how his brother was barely able to walk anymore without wincing in pain or fatigue. He didn’t ask for a break though, bravely walking on.

Óin stopped then, pointing at a nearby gnarly root that’d make a good seat.

“Lets take a break,” he suggested, and Glóin let himself drop on the root with a grateful sigh.

There still was water in a flask in Óin bag, though with the streams and rivers everywhere they would not run out. His stomach grumbled and Glóin was hungry as well, so Óin decided to part with the wild strawberries he’d found earlier. They were part of the things he wanted to bring home as loot, but right now wanting to eat seemed more urgent than whatever other use there was in the berries.

Having something to eat calmed Óin down a little, and he forced himself to think about what to do next. He was getting tired after an entire day of walking around, and Glóin would be too, after he’d climbed and ran around while Óin had gathered what he needed. They could simply sleep in the forest if they grew too tired, but who was to say that they’d manage to find their way home in the morning? At least the forests so close to Erebor and Dale would not have too many wild or dangerous animals around, or at least nothing two Dwarves couldn’t deal with (hopefully even two small ones).

The feeling of having done wrong returned full force at least, and the thought of putting Glóin through this because of his selfishness and mistakes made Óin feel worse than the thought of how angry their parents would be.

“I’m sorry I got us lost,” he said and Glóin kicked at the pebbles at his feet without looking up.

“And I’m sorry I ran away. It’s my fault…”

“No, I was supposed to watch you and-“

“Well, but I’m responsible too!” Glóin insisted and glaring up at Óin, determined to own up to whatever he did. 

Óin felt weirdly grateful for this, even if it made no difference on the situation they were in now. He patted Glóin’s shoulder and tried to give him a brave smile.

“No matter who’s fault it is, Mum will cut both our beards equally.”

‘ _If we even get back at all_ ’ he didn’t say.

Glóin’s hand came up to his face, covering his beard protectively with a fearful shiver.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

There was nothing familiar in the area, no river or tree or path Óin would have recognized, and he still could not see the mountain to be sure they were even walking in the right direction and not past it or even away from Erebor.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where the Lonely Mountain is from here.”

Glóin frowned and looked up.

“If we climb the trees we could see?”

Óin shuddered at the thought. Climbing trees was always a terrible idea in his opinion. He’d never liked it even when Thorin or Dwalin had hidden on low branches, he’d never followed. But it was a way to make sure they were walking in the right direction, and though Glóin was lighter he’d already fallen once today.

“Fine, you stay here and I’ll see,” Óin said and got up to walk over to the nearest sturdy looking tree. He put his bag down and braced himself for his task.

Oh he didn’t like it at all. Finding a branch that was low enough to reach was hard enough, but possible when he tried to climb a little by clinging to the rough bark. The first few feet were fine, but then the leaves started to obscure his sight and the branches moved under his feet. Like any Dwarf Óin didn’t mind climbing up on rocks and steep walls. But in those cases his feet and hands still connected to the ground and he was safe. Now he was steadily getting further away from steady ground and higher up to where the tree trunk swayed and the branches trembles when he stepped on them. Óin had no idea how to tell whether a branch wasn’t strong enough to support his weight, and unlike on bad rock he couldn’t even attempt to feel it.

He climbed and groaned and tried not to look down at all and only focused on up. Finally he was high enough to be above most of the other treetops and when Óin pushed aside a few thin branches he could see the Lonely Mountain. The sight soothed him like no other and it wasn’t too far off the course he and Glóin had taken before. They had been headed towards the direction of the lake, but now he knew where to go.

Óin had to force himself to be careful and not fall in his haste to climb back down and tell Glóin the good news. Branches and bits of bark stuck to his beard when he finally reached safe ground.

“I know the way now!” Óin proclaimed and quickly gathered up his things.

Glóin looked a little sceptical but he didn’t protest when Óin took his hand and pulled him along. The certainty that they weren’t getting further away from home at least made Óin forget how tired he was and even Glóin walked quickly. 

It took hours to get through the woods, the initial boost of energy long gone. Óin had to gently urge his brother on when Glóin yawned or asked for a short break. There was no time for that and even though his eyelids were drooping Glóin followed onwards.

By the time they stumbled out of the woods and onto a road leading directly to Erebor the dawn was already lightening the sky. The two Dwarflings stood on the edge of it, glancing up at the mountain tiredly. They’d made it, they weren’t lost anymore!

Some Dwarves and Men were already up, walking down to Dale or a few up to Erebor. There was a cart pulled by an ox going up to the mountain, loaded with barrels of fish. The Man on in glanced down at the two Dwarves with a raised eyebrow, taking them in with surprise. They must be recognizable as children, despite their beards even.

“What are you two doing up so early?” the Man asked, halting his ox.

“We got lost and we just want to go home,” Óin told him simply. He was too tired to care what people thought of him, and the Man would not know that he was too old to behave childishly.

“Get up then, I’ll take you along.”

Óin had to help Glóin climb up on the cart but then they could settle between the barrels and the Man made his ox pull them onwards. It was uncomfortable to sit between the barrels and the cart moved slower than an average Dwarf walked, but at least they could get some rest. Glóin dozed off against Óin, but Óin remained awake and watched the mountain come closer.

All Dwarves they passed looked up at them with curious expressions, and some hurried towards to mountain. To alert their parents probably. When a Dwarfling went missing nearly everyone who could possibly know where they were was alerted. The Dwarves who ventured outside Erebor regularly would know for sure, since Óin didn’t doubt that Dwalin had told the adults of his wish to go into the forest. Maybe someone had even seen them leave the day before, and had told their mother.

The gates came into view and finally they were home. The Man helped them climb down from the cart and Glóin woke up grudgingly. Óin thanked the man and took Glóin’s hand to lead him towards the mountain. They weren’t even through the gates when they were noticed.

“Óin! GLÓIN!”

Their father was running towards them along the hall, sandy hair waving behind him in messy braids in with each step. Lofarr reached them quickly going to his knees to pull his sons close.

“We got lost in the forest,” Óin mumbled against his father’s woollen jacket.

“That doesn’t matter, I’m so glad you’re back,” Lofarr interrupted them, relief visible on his face. “We’ll talk about how utterly foolish you two are later.”

Their uncle Fundin was there too, raising his eyebrows at the two Dwarflings. He didn’t say anything about it though, just shook his head a little in a way that suggested that he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

Lofarr picked up Glóin who fell asleep nearly right away, and though Óin tried to insist that he was fine his uncle picked him up as well. It was nice at least, his legs ached from walking through the forest. He was safe now, and even with the trouble they were in Óin was glad that all was fine.

“Is Mum very mad at us?” Óin asked quietly, and Fundin snorted while their father only laughed.

Óin looked from one to the other and then hid his face against Fundin’s shoulder. Didn’t really matter though, he was just glad to be home.


End file.
